


Last Day on Earth

by wheel_pen



Series: Miscellaneous Sherlock Stories [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe, Destruction of Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:18:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3946876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s another mundane day at the grocery store for Ruby—until she’s kissed by a strange bloke, and the earthquakes start tearing the city apart. Unfinished</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Day on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> This story has not been Britpicked. Please let me know if I get anything horribly wrong.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

Saturday afternoon at the grocery store. Why were there so many people here, looking as harassed and grumpy as Ruby felt? Oh, right, probably for the same reasons—they all worked nine to five at a dull job that sapped their strength until they were too tired to contemplate shopping in the evenings, so they had put it off until now, when they would really rather be doing something fun with their limited free time. At least Ruby didn’t have to drag young children around with her; though she _did_ have to dodge them quite often.

She stopped her cart in front of the ice cream case, staring through the glass at all the delicious, forbidden treats. Calories and fat, money, one more thing to lug home on the Tube, which had the potential to melt all over everything else. Also known as a pint of happiness. She grabbed one impulsively.

There was too much in her cart already, too much food for one person who lived alone and didn’t cook, and she forced herself toward the checkouts. Of course only half of them were open, and each had several carts piled up in them already. Ruby hated nearly everything about grocery shopping, especially standing in line. But you couldn’t really _not_ stand in line, could you? She wasn’t even close enough to the tabloid stands to read the covers while she waited.

As she gazed around aimlessly, Ruby noticed a tall, lanky man in a dramatically-swirling long wool coat. He seemed to be darting from line to line, as if looking for someone, and people stared after him with the non-confrontational grimace reserved for weirdos. Ruby made sure her purse was slung tightly over her shoulder.

For a weirdo he was at least good-looking, if a bit pale—high cheekbones, full lips, dark curly hair. As he got closer—Ruby kept watch out of the corner of her vision—his blazing blue eyes startled her into staring straight at him for a moment. They were unearthly, in a beautiful way. Then he looked right at her and Ruby swore to herself; the last thing she needed to do was attract the attention of a weirdo. She turned to look straight ahead with determination and thought about calling a cab to take her home.

For a moment it seemed like he’d disappeared. Then suddenly he popped up beside her and she jumped. He looked her up and down somewhat clinically, then peered into her cart. Before she could say anything he reached in and plucked out the ice cream container. “Double Fudge Cookie Dough,” he read aloud while she goggled. Then he ripped the lid off. “You should probably eat this now,” he suggested seriously. “The world’s about to end.”

Oh, he was one of _those_ types, Ruby realized with disappointment. She glanced around, trying to catch an employee’s eye.

“Go on,” he encouraged, holding the ice cream out to her. “There’s still a little time.”

“No thanks,” Ruby denied, starting to move away from him. Maybe she should look into online grocery shopping and delivery.

“Hang on,” the man said, and he put his arm around Ruby, pulled her close, and kissed her.

At first she was shocked, but the next thought was, _Hey, he smells good._ He didn’t taste bad either, and Ruby found herself not making a fuss. He ended the kiss just as abruptly, leaning back to give her a contemplative nod. He kept his arm around her.

Ruby wasn’t exactly sure what she would have done at that point, if there hadn’t been the explosion outside. It seemed to rock the whole building and around her people squealed and gasped, peering out through the windows into the street where black smoke had appeared. “Oh, it’s starting early,” the man commented lightly, as if talking about mildly inclement weather.

“What was that?” Ruby asked dully, because even though he couldn’t possibly know, one had to ask.

“The end of the world,” he repeated, without much concern. Then the lights flickered and went dark, another boom rumbled through them, and the panic really started to set in as the crowd rushed for the exits. Ruby felt oddly comforted, though, standing there in the arms of a total stranger, like he would know exactly what to do.

And he did. “Come on,” he said, clutching her hand and pulling her towards the back of the store. They ran in the opposite direction of almost everyone else and pushed through an emergency exit, setting off an alarm to join all the other sirens and blares filling the air.

They were in the alley behind the grocery and he didn’t slow down. “Best to avoid the main roads, everyone will be on them,” he advised.

“What’s happening?” Ruby asked, breathless with fear. They jerked to a stop at the end of the alley as Ruby simply froze, staring at the damaged buildings across from them and the rubble in the street. More explosions echoed around them but she couldn’t see a source. “Is it—an attack?”

“No, perfectly natural,” the man claimed, tugging on her arm to get her moving again. “I told you, your world is ending. It was always going to, the signs were clear.” They ran down the middle of the street, the only cars still and burning. At the end of the block the main road was clogged with people and vehicles. “Well, the signs weren’t clear to _you_ , I guess,” he decided with a shrug.

“ _My_ world?” Ruby repeated faintly. She had no idea what he was talking about, but his confidence and apparent knowledge, nonsensical as it may be, kept her going. Her brain was not equipped to process chunks of buildings falling from the sky, random explosions shattering in the distance, the ground suddenly rolling under her feet.

He caught her before she could fall. “Do you have any children?” he asked, suddenly very serious. “A mate?”

“What? No,” Ruby responded, as the earth rumbled again. “Is this an _earthquake_?”

They started jogging again, turning a corner. “It’s _the_ earthquake!” he countered. “Your planet was a ticking timebomb of tectonic tension! Hmm, that’s rather good,” he judged of his phrasing, repeating it to himself while Ruby fixated on his use of the past tense.

A tinny voice squawked, “ _Where are you?!_ ” and Ruby saw that the man was holding his cell phone up like a walkie-talkie.

“Coming down the street now,” he replied. “Open the door!”

Ruby had not really noticed where they were—a neighborhood of row houses, fairly nice, with the occasional business tucked in. Ahead of them a blue door beside a sandwich shop swung inwards and the man dashed towards it with Ruby in tow, accelerating as he leaped up the stairs and over the threshold. “I’m in!” he barked into the phone.

The door shut with a thunk and everything went quiet. There was still a distant rumbling and wobbling, but it was no longer overwhelming. Ruby realized with surprise that they had skidded to a stop inside a very ordinary row house foyer, lined with coat hooks, a mail table, doilies, an old-fashioned wall clock. “We’re safe here,” the man promised her.

“How can we be, if there’s an earthquake—“ This house was no safer than anywhere else in London—the walls and windows no stronger, the structure no more sound. It had to be at least a hundred years old, and did anyone think to make buildings in London earthquake-proof?

“Come on,” the man insisted, bounding up the stairs. As if to belie his assurances of safety the house began to rock. “It’s fine, it’s supposed to do that,” he claimed.

What else was she going to do? She had no idea. So she followed him upstairs, then down the corridor, then into a very ordinary-looking if cluttered flat. There was an organ against the wall and a blond man in a hideous patterned jumper sat at it, wildly pressing keys, buttons, and pedals. The music was surprisingly faint, drowned under the increased roaring all around them.

He looked over his shoulder at the dark-haired man and Ruby, his expression exasperated. “Finally! What’ve you been doing?! Who’s _that_?” This was clearly aimed at Ruby.

“A human female,” the tall man replied excitedly, stripping off his long coat and hanging it up. He was wearing a rather nice suit underneath it—no tie. “Her biochemistry—“

“Rhetorical,” the blond man snapped. He was concentrating very hard on playing the organ.

“Come here,” the dark-haired man suggested to Ruby from where he peered out the windows. “You won’t see this very often.”

He put his arm around her as she stared at the view with him, which was good because otherwise the sight would’ve left her dizzy and disoriented. The buildings across the street from them were—going down, getting smaller. No, that wasn’t right, _they_ were going _up_ —like they were in one of those see-through elevators on the side of a hi-rise. Except now they were higher than even the highest hi-rise, surely, more like an airplane, the buildings tiny shapes below them, the city a blot on the green landscape, England so close to the Continent, like she was zooming out on Google Maps.

The view went white and smoky for a moment, then it cleared again and the whole Earth lay before her, a blue jewel with green-brown patches she recognized from satellite photos—Europe, Africa, a bit of Asia. The noise had stopped and the silence around her was deafening.

Then suddenly the blue jewel cracked. Tongues of fire rent the land, large enough that Ruby could see them from this distance, and pieces of the globe yawned apart, the center gooey and blazing red. Chunks broke off, flying away into the blackness of space that was slowly taking up more of the view.

The man turned away. “A ticking timebomb of tectonic act—No, that’s not right, I had it perfectly before,” he insisted with frustration. “Start over. A ticking timebomb of tectonic _tension_.” He seemed pleased with himself.

The blond man, less so. “Cutting it a bit fine, weren’t you?” he needled, finally turning away from the organ.

“Not at all. Knew you had everything under control.”

He nodded at Ruby, who was still staring out the window, watching the blackening remains of Earth recede from view. “Human female,” the dark-haired man repeated. “You said we needed more of them, and her genetic material is very—“

“ _I_ said we needed more?” the blond interrupted in confusion. “ _I_ said no such thing.”

Something large whizzed past the window and Ruby jumped, startled out of her trance. “What was _that_?”

“Neptune, I think,” the blond replied, and she slowly turned around to face them. “We’re leaving your solar system now.” Ruby blinked at him dully, her mind not processing any more new information. “I’m John, and this is Sherlock,” he introduced, indicating the dark-haired man who had brought her here. He seemed more cognizant of the fact that she was rather in shock and rose to approach her slowly. “Um, excuse me.” He took her arms and kissed her.

Ruby jumped back, mind kicking into gear again. “Sorry,” John told her, then added to Sherlock, “Right about the genetic material, very useful.”

“But I only managed to get _one_ ,” Sherlock sighed, disappointed. “The grocery store was an unsatisfactory choice.”

“Who told you to get _any_?” John wanted to know. “It wasn’t _me_. Sorry, you must be quite exhausted,” he added to Ruby thoughtfully, guiding her to the couch. “Sit down. What’s your name?”

“Ruby.”

“Irene said that—“ Sherlock protested and John stopped him.

“ _Irene_ said?” he repeated significantly, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“A small miscommunication,” purred a new voice, and Ruby turned to see an attractive brunette slinking in the kitchen doorway, eyeing her with approval. “Looks like you did well, though.”

“Irene, this isn’t your personal pleasure ship,” John scoffed.

“Well, it _should_ be,” the woman claimed.


End file.
